


even the sight of his back (falling leaves are beautiful)

by sassy_ninja



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Character Study, Established Relationship, Familiars, Feel-good, Fluff, Good Demons, Implied Sexual Content, Introspection, Kinda, M/M, Magical Realism, Tea, Tea House, Witchcraft, Witches, just a tiny bit tho - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 16:23:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21139628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassy_ninja/pseuds/sassy_ninja
Summary: Iwaizumi is a demon that has never been tamed, Oikawa is the witch who asks him to be friends. This is not the journey, this is not the end, just one day in a thousand lifetimes. Slowly, gently steeping like tea. This is how love blooms.





	even the sight of his back (falling leaves are beautiful)

**Author's Note:**

> whats up everybody I'm in uni now but will that stop me from writing shit instead of working? NO!
> 
> (title is from falling leaves are beautiful by heize, pls give it a listen!)

Oikawa should have died when he was eight years old, by any logic he should have died on the spot in August, barely a month after his birthday. His summoning circle is barely round and more importantly, barely connected. All wonky lines and bright pink chalk from a set his sister got him for his birthday.

Inside his wonky little circle stands a hulking wolf, pressing at the boundaries and growling so deep it feels like the ground is rumbling under his feet.

“Who are you?” he asks, eyes wide with childish fear, the kind where you know there’s danger but aren’t quite aware of how serious it is. The demon can smell him, the sour tang of fear but there’s something else – the bubbling taste of curiosity is so unfamiliar it makes him hesitate for a second.

“_I am the Black Wolf, scourge of the Underworld. How dare a weak mortal summon me to this realm_,” the wolf growls, eyes gleaming red, voice booming inside Oikawa’s head. His energy pushes against the boundaries of the summoning circle, bending the magic that entraps him. He could probably break these bounds, swallow this little witch, wreak havoc once more upon the earth, but something feels different, something compels him to stay.

“I wanted to find an alien,” the boy pouts, “but I just got you instead. Do you wanna be friends?”

‘Friends’ stumps him, never in Hajime’s whole existence has a human ever asked to be friends, or has a human seen him without cowering, shaking and trembling. He is a demon that has never been shackled by witches, and proud of that, but this – something is different about this child-witch. The way his eyes gleam makes Hajime hungry, makes him feel like he can fly. For the first time in centuries he feels something pulling him towards a witch, a human, as if together there could be something far greater than he could do alone.

The witch sticks his hand out, pressed just on one side of the boundary of light. Hajime could bite his hand off, he could destroy this whole town, he could curse this region with darkness and disease for years. But instead, he presses his nose against this little boy’s hand and feels a bond snap in place between them, a contract, a friendship.

Oikawa Tooru walks home from the park a little later than he’s supposed to and behind him towers a wolf-dog, fangs bared and eyes gleaming. “Mama, mama,” Tooru crows as he walks in, “I made a friend.”

A little more than fifteen years later Hajime is still here. He presses a wet nose against Tooru’s cheek, startling him awake as he patters away back into the kitchen and a rapid stream of complaints follow.

“Iwa-chan, why d’you have to wake me up like that,” Oikawa whines, wiping at his face with his hands, “why can’t you wake me up like a normal person?”

“Why can’t you just get an alarm clock like a normal person,” Hajime replies, shifting back into his human form with a small roll of his eyes, “you make me wake you up every morning so I get to do it however the hell I want.”

Oikawa doesn’t reply, just huffs and slumps over his shoulder, pressing his face into the crook of his shoulder. Hajime doesn’t try and shift him, standing as still as he can as he fries their leftover rice from dinner, at least until he feels Oikawa bite down against his skin.

“Hey,” he growls, swatting at him, “don’t bite me, you’re not a dog.”

“No that’s you,” Oikawa grins, sleep finally starting to leave his eyes as he dances backwards to avoid Hajime’s menacing approach, “my little wolf pup.”

“Shut up you freak,” Hajime mutters, pulling him close for a quick kiss even though Oikawa whines about morning breath, “good morning, Tooru.”

Oikawa shudders, kissing him again quickly before pushing him back towards the kitchen with a laugh. This thing between them, it’s new and delicate, both of them pushing at the boundaries of what is and isn’t okay. He grins just a little at Hajime’s blush, when he pulls down the collar of his t-shirt and scratches at one of the many marks on his shoulder. It’s nice, he decides, when Hajime loses the carefully crafted human control he usually has, even better when it’s Oikawa that makes him. It’s a bit of a hassle to hide all the bruises afterwards – but hey, it’s good sex.

‘Tell me if this is too much,’ Hajime always says after lifting his head up from sucking yet another bruise onto Oikawa’s shoulder. It’s instinctive for him, to bite, to mark up a mate as his own. He likes it (just a touch possessive) when he sees Oikawa the next morning, marks up and down his shoulders like he’s Hajime’s.

“Iwa-chan,” he whines after completing his far too elaborate skincare routine, hair still damp from the shower, “I’m hungry.”

“Well come eat then, dumbass. You’d think I’m starving you the way you act,” he grumbles when Oikawa barrels past him into the kitchen. 

They eat in a comfortable silence, one of Oikawa’s feet resting in Hajime’s lap. He digs the thumb of his spare hand into the pad of Oikawa’s foot, laughing when he squirms and kicks Hajime’s thigh. It’s always comfortable, the quiet that settles between them. Hajime never really understood love, it’s hard for demons even after they’ve been alive for so long. He’d always kinda imagined it would feel constricting, but the constant swell on Oikawa’s side of the bond doesn’t drown him even though it surges over to him like a tsunami.

“Whatcha thinking about, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks, poking at him with his toes, “you got a frowny face on.”

“You know tsunamis don’t have backs, they’re just like a wall of water that never ends, like the whole ocean is gonna follow,” he says, chewing on his mouthful of rice, it’s a little dry but he’ll blame Oikawa for distracting him this morning, “that’s how you feel sometimes, like a tsunami.”

There’s a tugging uncertainty in Oikawa’s chest, the smallest frown on his lips as he tilts his head in a question. “Not like you to be so poetic this early in the morning, Iwa-chan?”

He shrugs in response, “just how you are, you’re intense, doesn’t feel like it’ll ever end. That’s how you feel over the bond, like your love will never end.”

Oikawa blushes violently at that, shovelling rice faster into his mouth and Hajime grins, it doesn’t take a lot to make Oikawa turn that exact colour of red. It’s pretty, he wants to burn that colour into his memory forever.

“Come on Iwa-chan,” he mutters, still not looking him in the eye, “let’s go to work.” All Hajime does is laugh, kiss the top of the pink flush on Oikawa’s cheeks as they toe their shoes on, bowls left in the sink for later.

They walk together, Hajime trotting just ahead of Oikawa sniffing at flowers and people’s ankles as they walk past. He waits patiently as one of their elderly neighbours bends down to pat his head and coo. No one seems to really question why Oikawa’s dog seems to change breed on a whim.

He sits by the door as Oikawa unlocks it, it’s only 6am but the lights are already on in the bakery across the street. He snorts as Oikawa sticks his tongue out at them.

‘_Come on Shittykawa, we have our own shit to do,’ _he says as they walk into the quiet little tea shop, Oikawa grunting as he pulls the shutters up.

“Karasuno keeps opening earlier and earlier,” he mutters as he stalks behind the counter, angrily flicking on light switches so the soft lamplight fills the room alongside the morning glow seeping in the big windows.

‘_You know it’s just Kageyama and Hinata’s weird competitions,’ _Hajime stretches his paws out on the wooden floor and shifts back as Oikawa bustles around muttering to himself. Hajime flexes his shoulders again, laughing when Oikawa tugs at his shirt for another quick kiss that turns into a few more and more. He pushes Oikawa away when he’s backed him onto the counter and is not very subtly trying to lift him onto it.

“Idiotkawa we’re opening in like twenty minutes,” he scowls, trying his very best not to blush as he stalks out front to make sure there are napkins in the dispensers and fresh flowers on every table.

“So we should have a quick snack before then so we don’t get hungry when we’re working,” he grins, winking for emphasis, ducking down with a shriek when Hajime hurls an empty napkin dispenser at him.

“Don’t call me a snack,” he hisses when he makes his way behind the counter where Oikawa is squatting and pouting at the shattered ceramic plate on the ground, “and don’t just sit there like you couldn’t fix that in a second.”

“Mean Iwa-chan,” he sticks his tongue out but with a quick wave of his hand the ceramic shards knit themselves back together so it looks like nothing had ever happened to it in the first place. Hajime picks it up and fills it with tissues again, putting it back on table 3 like usual.

There are already several pots of tea already lined up on the back counter, Hajime recognises each one by smell alone. A green tea for Mrs Morishima, loose leaf because she secretly can’t stand matcha. Camomile for Mrs Wakatobi, to soothe her nerves because her grandson was visiting yesterday and he can be a bit of a handful. Jasmine and green tea for Mr Ito because it’s just his favourite.

Oikawa takes care with every single one, pouring out different amounts of leaves depending on each person’s taste, making sure each teapot is perfectly suited. There’s nothing like watching him do magic, even if it’s nothing flashy, just measuring out tea leaves and pouring hot water, the ambient magic in the room, the magic that Oikawa just holds in his fingertips is what gives it power.

'European witches,' Oikawa would always say when they were in school, 'with their stupid wands and incantations, I can’t believe they don’t even use ambient magic.'

Hajime thinks that people who didn’t know Oikawa would think that he would be exactly that kind of person with a foreign imported wand and bunches of keychain-charms tied to his bag. It makes him laugh, the kind of person they think he is. But really, there’s never been anything that brings a soft, proud smile to Oikawa’s face than tea magic. It’s Hajime’s favourite smile, one that has no motives, no end goal.

Oikawa’s smile when he flips the little sign at the door and a few minutes later one of their regulars comes in, that’s the closest Hajime thinks anyone will ever get to see the real Oikawa. When he carefully measures out tea leaves, boils the water just right, takes it over to them and pours the first cup. When he makes magic that nobody can see he feels more human to Hajime than anyone else.

There’s a power in that that’s greater than any potions master or curse expert, Ms Wakatobi takes a sip and feels the tension flow out of her bones. Hajime feels more cocker spaniel and she pats his head softly, ruffling at the fur between his ears. He cracks open an eye to see Oikawa bright and laughing with another customer, he closes it again and lets Ms Wakatobi talk about her grandson again. Yes, there’s magic here, one far greater than anybody really understands, and Oikawa – as usual – excels in it.

There’s never so much as a rush of people, never enough that they run out of tables or Hajime needs to help by doing more than tidy things up. Oikawa’s carefully labelled jars and pots sit neatly on the wall of shelves behind the counter, if it’s particularly busy Hajime can usually buy a few minutes by distracting the most impatient customers with a wagging tail, but the shop is always enough. Enough to pay their rent and to have a bit left over, it’s all they need for now.

Today there’s a lull across the shop, it feels like it’s fallen across the entire town. If Hajime listens hard enough he can hear the cicadas singing outside in the dizzying heat as the door opens for someone to leave, calling out a quiet goodbye to Oikawa. The closing click drowns most of their song out. He can hear the quiet murmur of conversation, the sound of tea being drunk, Oikawa’s breath soft on his shoulder as they sit hunched behind the counter.

Hajime fiddles with Oikawa’s hands, even after so many years there’s something about them that fascinates him. ‘Your hands are key to magic,’ Hajime knew, ‘secondary only to your heart, maybe your breath.’ Oikawa’s are beautiful, he knows that already, he knows every scar, every callous, but yet he still holds them in his own like they're something new. He can feel Oikawa’s gaze on him when he bends his fingers at every joint, watches the skin at his knuckles go from pink to white and then back again.

These bird’s boned hands, you’d think they’d be frail from the slender look of his fingers, but he’s seen them fell trees with a twitch. He can feel the magic thrumming just under the skin, every millilitre of blood bursting with power. These weak human hands could do so much, could break the sky, shatter the earth. There’s the power for it, the potential to wreck havoc, but instead there’s a gentle chiming of a bell and Oikawa stands to greet another customer. His hands click on the cash register, go to pour out the right amount of tea leaves (black), they tap on the wooden countertop as he waits for the water to boil, pours the kettle and lets the tea steep. Every movement practiced and careful, letting the magic seep in. He steps out from the counter and Hajime can’t see anymore but he can hear, closes his eyes and knows what’s happening even without sight.

Oikawa walks to the table (7), smiles at the customer (a new regular, a university student they guess from her books and the bags under her eyes), pours the first cup for her (always the first cup). He hears Oikawa walk back and he opens his eyes again, taking his hand and pulling him back down. The smell of his magic is strong throughout the entire shop, always the smell of freshly brewed green tea. He holds his hands and presses a soft kiss to his palm.

No, tea magic isn’t potent, it doesn’t have instant or rapid effects, but Hajime hears the student sigh into her cup, the distractions of the day fading into the background as she takes out a textbook. There’s power in subtlety, Hajime thinks as Oikawa presses a kiss to the side of his mouth, in quiet hard work, in something so small you don’t quite notice it until it’s passed.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write this into a longer piece but as usual I didn't have the dedication to do that so for now this is just a little snapshot of their life. theres always so angst in iwaoi fics so pls enjoy this little piece of chill fluff. they're just two idiots in love and thats all for now!
> 
> anyways I hope u all enjoyed! pls leave kudos and a comment if u did it would mean the world to me!


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